smile lighted up his face. The past was not forgot- 
len, but it. was gone. No more moldy crusts, oaths, 
harsh words, and blows. No more begging at base¬ 
ment doors, and looking half-famished to envy a 
dog gnawing a bone in the streets. No more fear 
of rude children, who never knew where their hearts 
lay; no more sleeping on door steps, and listening 
in terror to the drunken quarrels of the vicious and 
depraved. 
Yes, the past was gone; and in the rosy future 
were love, home, even God and the angels. Cer¬ 
tainly sweet spirits had guarded that child, and 
guided him out of seeming evil into positive good. 
Surely, henceforth he would put his hands trustingly 
in theirs, and turn his face heavenward. Yes, it 
was so to he. The dear, teachable child — a jewel 
picked from the mire, a brand snatched from the 
lnu ning—was yet to illumine the dark paths of this 
world with his holy, heaven-like teaching. Like a 
dove, he was to go forth over the waters, and find 
the olive branch with which to garland his glad 
tidings. Blessings, then, on all who hold their arms 
out toward needy little children, making their homes 
arks for refuge! Beautiful stars shall they have in 
their crowns of rejoicing, for surely there is no jewel 
brighter in all the world, and perhaps in all eternity, 
than the soul of a little child.— Wesleyan Methodist 
Magazine. 
AN ANGE1 
comrades, their sternest foes would be around them. 
And all her energies were directed to keeping them 
still in the ignorance so fatal to them. 
Meanwhile Tommy’s tow head shot over the 
mowing, over the wall, through the narrow lane, 
reaching the great road just as a mounted band of 
men came in sight, lie mounted a stump, waved 
his jacket, and the foremost among them stopped. 
“ What is it, boy?” 
“ Marm wants your fifing man to stop playing that 
thing, and have down that ere flag, and come up to 
our bouse through the lane. Como on.” 
He was starting, but Zagonyi stopped him. “I 
don’t understand, boy; what does she want?” 
Tom was indignant. “Wants you to nab some 
seceshers up to our house, but you needn’t come if 
yon don't wanter.” 
Something in hi3 face struck one of the men and 
he said, “Who is your marm. boy?” 
“ Lucy Dudly.” 
“Go ahead, Major,” shouted the. fellow. “She’s 
true blood; they shot her husband a month ago.” 
Zagonyi, followed by a portion of bis men, 
wheeled into the lane, trying to keep Tommy in 
sight; and soon they came in view o f the low house, 
and the noisy mirth of the Confederates was dis¬ 
tinctly heard. Armstrong never 
ordering Mrs. Dudly to “ 
[Tub following stanzas were composed while on guard at 
Fort Albany, Arlington Heights, September 17, by a young 
man from Wenham, a soldier in the 14th regiment Massachu¬ 
setts volunteers:! 
At midnight on my lonely seat, 
When shadows wrap the wood and lea. 
A vision seems my view to greet 
Of one at home who prays for me;— 
My Mother. 
The roses blow upon her cheek; 
Her form is not a lover's dream; 
But on her faee, so fair and meek, 
A host of holier beauties gleam. 
My Mother. 
For softly shines her silver hair. 
A patient smile is on her face. 
And the mild lustrous light of prayer 
Around her sheds a moonlight grace. 
My Mother. 
She prays for one that's far away,— 
The soldier in his holy fight,— 
And begs that heaven in mercy mny 
Protect her boy and bless the right. 
My Mother. 
Till, though the leagues lie far between, 
This silent incense of her heart 
Steals o'er my soul with breath serene, 
And we no longer are apart,— 
My Mother. 
So guarding thus my lonely seat. 
By shadowy wood and haunted lea, 
That vision seems my view to greet 
Of her at home who prays for me;— 
My Mother. 
T his bent advkktisi xo 
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in various pans of the country, can attest 
I From the New York Daily World, Feb. 15, i862.] 
Moore'S Rvrat, NRw-YOkkkR comes to ns freighted with 
its usual amount of information, valuable, not, to farmers alone 
but to all who Lake nn interest In the improvements of the 
times. For years it lias maintained an enviable position as a 
family newspaper, and we are gratified to learn that its pros¬ 
pects were never better than they are at the present time. We 
commend it to the notice of those of our readers who take an 
interest in agricultural and horticultural matters, and, we rirav 
add. to advertisers who desire to reach the farming commun'i’. 
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[From the New York Daily Times,) 
Moore's Rvral New-Yorker, published at Rochester, has a 
very large circulation, especially among the agricultural pony, 
lation of the Northern, Western, and Middle States, and offers a 
very excellent niodium for advertising to business men of this 
city who desire to reach those sections. It is an aide and 
well-managed pat>er, and deserves the success it has achieved. 
IFrom the New York Daily Tribune.] 
We don’t care what a publisher charges, so that he gives ns 
the worth of onr money. Mr. Moore charges 35 cents a line 
and his circulation makes it. cheap advertising. We don't know 
the circulation of the Rvral Nkw-Yohkku, but we know that 
it pays us to advertise in it 
A little pauper boy sat down on the curb stone 
and tried to think. His feet were bare, red, and 
cold; lmt never mind that. The chill air penetrated 
his ragged garments; but never inind that. He 
wanted to think. Who are these people passing 
him, looking so warm and comfortable? What, did 
it mean that they should be happy and cheerful, 
and he so sad? None of them had such heavy 
hearts; that he was sure of. He looked up into the 
cold blue sky. What was it, and who lived up 
(here? Somebody hud said once that God would 
take care of him. Where was God? Why didn’t 
be take care of him? Oh, if he could only see God 
for one little minute, or the angels that the good 
men told him of when his mother died! Did folks 
ever see God? Did they ever see angels? ’ 
An organ-grinder came near and took liis stand. 
The melody he played lightened the little boy's 
heart somewhat; but it didn't warm him—it didn’t 
make him less hungry. He kept shivering in spite 
of the music, and he felt so all alone, so despairing! 
Then the organ-grinder passed away; he never 
heeded the little child sitting on the curbstone, he 
bad so many things to think of. The carriages 
passed by, and the carts, and a company of soldiers; 
but it was all dumb show to him—he was trying to 
think, with such a dull pain at his heart. Presently 
three or tour coarse-looking boys gathered behind 
him, and winked and laughed at each other. In 
another moment, the youngest gave a thrust, and 
over went the poor little homeless child into the 
gutter. One scream, one sob of anguish as he gath¬ 
ered himself up and looked after the boys, now 
flying away with shouts ol’mirth. Oh! how cruel 
it seemed in them—how cruel! The little hungry 
boy walked slowly on, sobbing and shivering (o 
himself. He didn’t know what he was walking for, 
or why he was living. He felt out of place—a poor 
little forlorn spirit that had losd its way—a bruised 
reed that any one might break—a little heart so 
tender that a look was anguish, how much more a 
blow ! 
The little boy stood at last near the corner of a 
street. An apple stand, at which he gazed with 
longing eyes, riot far oil, was tended by a cross¬ 
looking old man. There were cakes on the stand, 
and the poor little mouth of the homeless child 
watered as he saw one boy after another deposit 
his penny, and take his cake. He had no penny, 
and though there was hunger in his eyes, the cross¬ 
looking old man never offered him a morsel. 
The tempter came. The old man's back was 
turned. A vile boy at bis side—at the side of the 
homeless child — nudged his elbow. “You take 
one,” he whispered; “I’ll give you half.” 
The little child gazed at him steadily. He saw 
something in the bleared eyes that, made him shrink; 
something that, set his heart to beating. 
“I tell you, hook one,” whispered the hoy. “I 
won’t tell, and we’ll go away and eat it,” 
“ I don't want to steal,” said the homeless child. 
“ Oh, you fool!” muttered the brutal tempter, and 
smote him in the eyes, his heavy band dealing a 
blow that sent the poor little child against the wall, 
quivering with anguish. The 
suspected, eveD 
show 'em right in.” She 
went to the door and they needed not that she 
should speak; her piercing, eager look told every¬ 
thing. They surrounded the loom, Zagonyi’s clear 
voice ordered those inside to surrender, while at the 
same moment, the fifer gave an exultant— 
“Yankee Doodle's come to town, 
Yankee Doodle dandy.” 
Armstrong saw the trap, and fired his revolver, bit¬ 
ting the gray-haired old grandmother, leveling her 
with the ground. Nobody noticed the shot except¬ 
ing Tommy, and as he held her bleeding head on 
his knees he never shed a tear; but he is on one of 
Commodore Foote’s gunboats as a powder-monkey 
to-day, and he never hands a charge hut he thinks 
of that terrible hour. One or two on both sides 
were wounded, but the struggle was soon over, and 
the rebels marched out bound together with old 
chains, which the boys very gladly found. Zagonyi 
must take the prisoners with him, for men couldn’t 
be spared to guard them, and as they were all in 
Iron! of the door before starting, Mrs. Dudly, who 
knew every inch of the ground in the vicinity, 
undertook to tell them a nearer road to the town. 
They did not understand her hurried, nervous direc¬ 
tions, and she started as if to go with them; thou she 
remembered her dying mother, and drew back, 
calling Tommy from the sufferer’s side to take the 
place in her stead. 
But the dying woman's faint voice stopped her. 
“You go, Lucy; he might make a mistake; he will 
take care of me, and we will keep the old flag 
flying.” 
The reserve in the lane by Zagonyi’s order had 
already come up, and Lucy only stayed to kiss the 
pale lips and precious face, then she mounted her 
own stout mare and led the way. She guided them 
safely in the intricate path up to the very edge of 
the ravine, where, according to Armstrong’s talk, 
she knew the wily foe were hidden. It was the 
very spot Zagonyi wished to be in, and she had 
saved him a long stretch of dangerous road. Then 
she fell back to the readjust as Zagonyi's eager eye 
took in the whole of his position. Desperate! What 
will he say, what will those men do who have been 
taunted with being holiday soldiers on the pave¬ 
ments of St. Louis?” 
“Soldiers, your war-cry is Fremont and the 
Union. Draw saber, by the right flank, quick trot, 
march.” 
His voice, shrill and intense, pierced every heart, 
and as those bright swords glittered in the sunshine 
and the little band sped to their deadly work, I 
wonder not that Lucy Dudly’s brown mare kept her 
place, as eager as her mistress to do gallant work. 
That battle will always burn on the pages of history, 
and I need write none of its details here; only this 
much, that everywhere, helping off the wounded, 
handing we: 
Wiiucvtiscmcnts 
The shades of night were falling fast 
As through a Southern village passed 
A youth, ivho bore, not over nice, 
A banner with the gay device, 
Skedaddle! 
His hair was red; his toes beneath 
Peeped like an acorn from its sheath, 
While with a frightened voice he suDg 
A burden strange to Yankee tongue. 
Skedaddle! 
He saw no household fire where he 
Might warm his tod or hominy; 
Beyond the Cordilleras shone, 
And from his lips escaped a groan, 
Skedaddle! 
“ O, stay,” a eullered pussun said, 
“ An’ on dis bosom res’ your hed!” 
The Octoroon she winked her eye, 
But still he answered, with a sigh, 
Skedaddle! 
“ Beware McClellan, Buell, Banks, 
Beware of Halleek's deadly ranks!” 
This was the planter's last good-night, 
The chap replied, far out of sight, 
Skedaddle! 
At break of day, as several boys 
From Maine, New York, and Illinois, 
When moving southward, in the air 
They heard these accents of despair, 
Skedaddle! 
A chap was found, and at his side 
A bottle showing how he died, 
Still grasping, in his hand of ice, 
That banner with the strange device, 
Skedaddle! 
There in the twilight, thick and gray. 
Considerably played out, he lay; 
And through the vapor, gray and thick, 
A voice fell like a rocket stick, 
Skedaddle! Vanii 
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MAJOR ZAGONYI’S GUIDE: 
OR, A HEROINE OF THE WAR FOR THE UNION. 
BY ANNIE SAWYER DOWNS. 
On the morning of the 24th day of last October, 
a somewhat novel scene unrolled itself before the 
door of quiet farm house, about two miles from 
Springfield, Missouri. Two women and three young 
lads had just, raised a very modost little flag; and as 
the wind floated it gracefully in the air, they gave 
three cheers for the Stars and Stripes—cheers which 
if not loud were certainly hearty. The younger of 
the women. Lucy Dudly, mother of the boys, stood 
gazing up to it, and as she thus gazed, her face put 
on a look of stern determination, and she murmured 
low, between her almost shut teeth, “It shan’t come 
down again while I live.” 
“Yes, ’twill mother,” broke in one of the boys, 
“for the seceshers are in town again, and they’ll 
make you.” 
His mother did not notice him, but turning to the 
older woman, said, “For William’s sake, mother, 
we’ll keep it up.” Even before she had done speak¬ 
ing, the sound of horses’ feet was heard, and the 
youngest boy, clinging to her dress, tried to draw her 
into the house, crying out, “ There they come; O, 
mother, run!” whilo the old grandmother, retreating 
behind the door, trembled visibly; but the mother 
stood firm, awaiting the men whom she knew only 
too well. Only one little month before they shot 
down her husband like a dog, because he said his 
house was his own, and be should hoist just what 
flag seemed to him best over it. They shot him 
before her eyes, and his heart's blood had sprinkled 
the very ground where she stood, and I wonder not 
that the look in her eyes was scarcely womanly. 
Down the road they came, a dozen Confederate 
ruffians, called soldiers by courtesy, and “chivalry,” 
by Mr. William Russell. They were well armed 
and mounted, and as they thundered up to the door 
the leader shouted, “Down with that damned 
Yankee rag; if you don’t I’ll blow your brains out.” 
No notice was taken; the woman might as well 
have been stone. 
“ Luce Diully, don’t ye hear me?” and he pointed 
his revolver at her. 
“I hear, Bill Armstrong.” 
“ Blast ye, then, why don’t ye mind?” 
“ Because I won’t.” 
“ You won’t, won’t you?” and he fired, but missed. 
He swore madly at his horse for shying; and as he 
did so, she said, “ This is my house and this is my 
flag; I want it here and shall have it here. You can 
shoot me and then pull it down; you certainly won’t 
before.” 
Oue man shouted, “ We ain't cut-throats; we don’t 
kill women and children.” 
“ You have killed women and children more than 
once,” was the taunting answer. Several of the 
men, old neighbors of hers, Jell the thrust, and 
quailed before her eye, while others drew their 
pistols; but the leader, throwing up the weapon 
nearest him, went on. 
“ Wal, Luce, victuals and drink we’ve got to have, 
and we won’t go under that cussed rag.” 
“Victuals and drink I can’t help your having; 
hut if I am going to get them for you, you come in 
through this door.” 
Evidently her look daunted them; tor bold as 
they were, they were bad and they knew it; so with 
a rude laugh the captain dismounted, shouted “ coine 
on. boys,” and, leaving their horses to the care of 
the children, they, one after the other, went into 
the kitchen, and drank eagerly of the whisky set 
before them. As they thus drank, they became 
wonderfully communicative; and, listening eagerly, 
Lucy heard that they had been sent out from Spring- 
field, with some fifty others, to see if anything could 
be seen of the advance guard of Fremont’s army, 
who were supposed to be in the vicinity. She found 
that this party had been stopping at one house and 
another, drinking and devastating, and very natu¬ 
rally had divided, and that Armstrong meant to 
wait until the rest came up. and start lor the town 
together from her house. She likewise learned that 
they had nol seen anything of the Lincoln soldiers. 
She gave them their fill of liquor, she let them eat 
the best the house afforded, and as she was taking a 
pitcher to get more whisky her keen ears caught the 
sound ol a distant fife. Armstrong heard it too, 
and, with an oath, said them lazy lubbers of his 
were at last coming, and the old woman must.take 
some more dodgers along. 
Lucy had taken the pitcher, and closing the door 
behind her, almost flew out into the yard, and taking 
the oldest boy by the shoulder, said in a terribly 
hoarse voice, “Torn, run for your life over the 
mowing, through the lane, and tell those men you 
will meet to take down their flag, stop playing 
Yankee Doodle, and come up through the lane with 
you, and they can get every one of these men. 
Don’t let the grass grow under your feet, boy.” 
The wind had brought to her ears, what it never 
whispered those drunken men, that instead of their 
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terrible blow had almost blinded him for a moment. 
A sob came up in his throat. “Oh, what have I 
done to be treated so?” There never, never was a 
God, or he would not let him suffer so, and that 
because he refused to be wicked. I don’t believe 
that ever a man in his deadliest bereavements suf¬ 
fered more than that sad little child. His heart was 
literally swelling with grief, and though he could 
not reason about it, he felt as if there were great 
and sore injustice somewhere. 
He started to cross the street. A dark, blinding 
pain still made his poor temples ring. 
“ Back! back! Good heavens! The child is under 
his feet! Back! back!” 
“ Oh, mamma, it is our horses run over a poor 
little boy. Oh, mamma, mamma!” 
“Is he hurt much, coachman?” The woman’s 
apons, doing anything, everything that face is as pale as ashes. “Yes. he is hurt badly, 
a cool head and a steady hand could do, was Lucy Take him right, in; don’t wait; carry him right in 
Dudly. At last the day was ours, and as Zagonyi and up Ft airs. It was your carelessness. The child 
gathered the remnant of his force about him, he shall be attended to.” 
shrank back, for he could not count the dead, and it There is no anguish now. Perhaps God saw he 
took not long to number the living. here was had borne all he could, and so took the poor little 
Lucy Dudly? Hardly one of those bloody, black- broken heart there to heal. How very white and 
ened faces, but could tell of some good deed she did qu j el j u Qh, a sweet face — a sweet, sweet face!” 
for them during those long, dreadful hours. Even m „ rmur ed the woman, bending over the hoy; and 
while they were speaking of her she came in sight, tearg fell upon h j 8 forehead, but he did not feel them, 
and not now mounted on her brown mare, but instead, .. oh, the poor little boy!” sobs Nelly, “ the poor 
lire mare was harnessed to a market wagon, and little boy! I wish he had kept on the sidewalk; I 
its broad bottom was covered with wounded soldiers. wish he had stayed at home with his mother.” 
She was walking Ire,side it, holding the reins, look- Alas! in this world there was no mother to keep 
ing fearfully pale and tired; for, now the excitement him. 
was past, her womanhood was uppermost, and her The doctor came; said he was not dead, but would 
only care was to lrelp tbe wounded and comfort the ^eiy 1 ikc* 1 y die. There was an hospital near. The 
dying. They knew she was taking their guttering poor thing had better be sent there. But‘the good 
comrades to the shelter of her own home, and not a woman would not allow that. She would care for 
man, from the Major downwards, but would have him herself, she said. He had been injured by one 
been eager to escort her, but she refused them all; o( her horses, and she felt it was her duty to attend 
and when the Major pressed the matter, she told lo him. Besides, it was likely the chlid had no 
them she knew iho way better than they did, and mo fher. Such a boy as lie, with a face so sweet and 
was safe enough alone. They gathered round her; gil . lish) po pure an( ] lovable, would never be sent 
they called her all noble, heroic names, such as men on the streets like that, if he had a mother. Besides, 
use in moments of elevation of soul; but she looked ( aud here her tears fell,) there was a little mound 
surprised, and answered almost coldly, “Why ntd y C t green over just such a child. No, no; it 
shouldn’t I do what 1 could? My grandmother did was not 5n bor heart ‘to put the poor wounded boy 
more at Bunker Hill, and her husband died at Con- away> Lot h i m stay, whether he lived or died, 
poril 99 
' , . , , „ , . , . The weary, weary days passed on. One morning 
They bent low before her as she turned away, and ^ ^ d big dim blue eyes, but he 
not one ol those strong-handed German fellows will (M ^ know him8ein llifJ glance le ll wearily on 
ever forget the woman who fought srie by side with his handp _ T1 ,ere were white bands around his 
them at the baitle of Springfield. Home she went wrigtSi witb mma 0 n them. The bed was so snowy 
to find he old mother dead, and the children hiding ^ and a crimSOn lighl fe n over everything, 
from retreating rebels; but the flag still waved and ^ God , J ftm in heaven » vumured the 
as the poor, pale fellows in the cart caught sight of chM , Y God wiU take care of me now.” 
its blessed folds, they gave a feeble shout, touching Whftt visions of love]iness glanced forth from the 
m its Vi eakness. shadow behind the bed. The rich curls fell around 
All through the winter she nursed and fed that a face of exquisite beauty. The beaming eyes 
houseful of sufferers, and as one after another grew looked ]ove aild g i a( ] n ess upon him. 
strong and left her, all she asked of them was, that .< 0h) y es , there is an angel!” he said softly. “ I 
they would strike manly blows for their country, am g i ad . They won’t knock me over again; they 
and keep always the noble war cry of Zagonyi, won ’t want me to steal apples hear; and perhaps I 
“ 1 he Union and Fremont,” close to their hearts. I ghall never die again. Now I want to see my 
thank God for that woman. No Dudly that ever mother.” 
won spurs in the olden days had a braver or more « My dear boy, you are better this morning?’’ 
loving heart than hem—Springfield Republican. asked a ]ow? golt voice> 
' ’ * ' * He turned slowly, wearily. 
Ill Humor.— Never do anything that can denote “ Is it mother?” he murmured, 
an aDgry soind; for although everybody is born “ Ob, yes,” and there were quick sobs and tears; 
with a certaiu degreeot passion, and from untoward “yes, my little child, I will be your mother, and 
circumstances will sometimes feel its operation, and you shall be my sou. Will you love me dearly?” 
be what they call “out of humor.” yet a Sensible “Yes, I do love you, mother; is it heaven?” 
man or woman will never allow it to be discovered. “ Heaven! no, darling, it is earth; but God sent 
Check and restrain it; never make any determina- you here to our heurts, and you shall be loved and 
tion until you find it has subsided; and always avoid cared for. See, here is a little sister, and you will 
saying what you may wish unsaid.— Lord Colling- be very happy with her. Kiss him, Nelly.” 
wood. Her rosy lips touched his pale ones, and a heavenly 
ARVAK1) UNI "V E K fS 1 TUr 
Lawrence Scientific School. 
Tbe Next Term in the Chemical Department Pugins AusuHt 
8“th. The Regular Course includes Recitations in General 
Chemistry, Qualitative and Quantitative Analysis, Rhymes, and 
Technical Chemistry, and Instruction in the Laboratory in An¬ 
alysis, Agricultural and Manufacturing Chemistry, Metallurgy 
and Pharmacy Students may ohm attend Recitations in An¬ 
atomy and Physiology, Mineralogy. Physical Geography, and 
Political Economy, and conrses id Lmurog mi Oeoloov and 
Zoology, Prof. Agassiz: Philosophy Prof Bowen; Chemistry, 
Prof Cooks . Botany, Prof Gray . Technology, Prof Hokhkohii; 
Literature. Prof. Low EM. : Phyries Prof. Lovichi.no ; Mathe¬ 
matics, Prof. Praters , History, Prof. Toil HR V Anatomy, Prof. 
\\ v man, Th.ii Department.,eceiveft general students, who seek 
a thorough scientific education, and uIbo special students in 
Chemistry applied to Medicine, Metallurgy or Manufactures. 
For further information, address C. W. ELIOT, Professor of 
Chemistry, Cambridge, Mass. 644-6teo 
J. A. LOWELL, 
Chairman of the President and Fellows <tf Har vard College. 
A Good Retort.— The Toledo Commercial gives 
the following good retort;—“The other day, as a 
number of rebel prisoners were being shipped at 
Sandusky for the traitor’s home on Johnson’s Island, 
a little German made himself quite prominent with 
his noisy remarks about the Secesb. One of them, 
a brawny six-looter, turned savagely upon him and 
said, “We eat Dutchmen down South.” “Vyden 
you no eat Sigel?” was the instant retort. Secesh 
had no reply to give, but passed sadly on. 
A Lawyer’s Eloquence.— A young lawyer 
lately concluded his argument in a case of trespass 
with the following sublime burst: — “If, gentlemen 
of the jury, the defendant’s hogs are allowed to 
roam at large over the fair fields of my client with 
impunity and without pokes, then—yes, then, indeed, 
have our forefathers fought and bled and died in 
vain.” 
p O It H A L K . 
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-A. OF 205 ACRES. 
All the buildings oil said farm are <rf modem style, and in tip¬ 
top order - the barn alone costing over $3,000. Said Farm lies 
IN THE TOWN OF PHELPS, ONTARIO CO., 
Two and a half miles south-west of Oaks' Corners; has been 
under a well-directed system Of improvement for several years, 
arid is thoroughly unOerdrained. The desirableness of loca¬ 
tion, convenience itud durability of buildings, quality of soil, 
high state of cultivation, all combine to make it 
ONE OF THE MOST DESIRABLE FARMS 
Ever offered for sale. Said Furrn will be sold at a bargain. 
Possession given at any time. A part of tbe purchase money 
can remain on the Farm. Also, with or without tire Farm, 
350 Well-bred Spanish Merino Sheep and Lambs, 
Which, for quality, quantity and evenness of fleece, can't be 
beat—together with all of the Stock. Teams, Farming Utensils 
and Tools For further particulars inquire of 
WM JOHNSON or GEORGE C. MOORE. 
642-13t of Geneva, N Y. 
For Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
MISCELLANEOUS ENIGMA. 
I am composed of 15 letters. 
My li, 14. 8, S is a town of Russia. 
My 2, 15, 7, 14 is a county in Pennsylvania. 
My 10, 2,13, 13 is a county in Texas. 
My 5, 13, 1,14, 16, 12 is a man’s name. 
My 9.13, 11, 12, 2 is a musical instrument. 
My 4, 5, 3, 7, 8, 5 is a town of European Turkey. 
My whole is tire name of a general in the Federal army. 
Spencer, Tioga Co., N. Y., 1862. Mart, 
|3r” Answer in two weeks. 
GROCERIES, PROVISIONS, SEEDS, FRUITS, &c. 
3 VL. J. MONROE, 
WHOLESALE AND RETAIL 
GROCER AND COMMISSION MERCHANT, 
90 lluliklo Street, Rochester, N. Y. 
Also, Dealer in Clover and Timothy Seed, Seed Potatoes, 
Green and Dried Fruits, &c t'fr- Pure Wines and Liquors, 
and Rectified Whisky, for Medicinal purposes. 1640 
For Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
DOUBLE REBUS. 
A NEW AND IMPORTANT 
A invkn'uion, 
BY DOUGLAS BLY, M. D. 
Br frequent di-sectiotie Dr. Bi.v has 
succeeded in embodying the principles of 
the natural leg in an artificial one, and in 
giving it lateral, or side motion, at the 
ankle, the same an the natural one. Ky 
so doing ho has produced the most com¬ 
plete arid successful invention ever attain¬ 
ed in artificial legs- , , ... 
A pamphlet containing full description 
A town in Portugal. 
An empire in Europe. 
A river in Sardinia. 
A city in Connecticut. 
A county in Missouri. 
My initials form a town, tny finals where situated. 
Minneapolis, Minn., 1802. 
Answer in two weeks. 
A pamphlet containing full descript 
and illustrations can be irad without charge, by addressing 
DOUGLAS BLY. M D.. 
637-eo-tf Rochester, N. Y-; or, Cincinnati, Ohio. 
For Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
MATHEMATICAL PROBLEM. 
MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER, 
THE LARGEST C1KCC7.ATED 
AGRICULTURAL, LITERARY AND FAMILY WEEKLY, 
IS PUBLISHED EVERY BATUBDAY, 
BY D. D. T. MOORE, ROCHESTER, N. Y. 
Oflice, Union Buildings, Opposite the Court House, Buffalo Street 
TERMS IN ADVANCE: 
Two Dollars a Year—To Clubs aud Agents as follows 
Three Conies one rear, for $5 . Six, and one free to club ageot, 
A gentleman has a farm of the followiug dimensions, viz.: 
The width is to tire length as 5 to 8, and the distance from the 
N. E. to the S. YV. corner is 150 rods. Required, the number 
of acres in his farm. J- M. Brainerd. 
Richmond, Macomb Co., Mieh., 1862. 
Answer in two weeks. 
ANSWERS TO ENIGMAS, <5tc., IN No. 648 
l\ 
